


Jagged Edges

by StanfouQueen



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StanfouQueen/pseuds/StanfouQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The roles have been reversed. It's her turn to be his rock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jagged Edges

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know, I know. I really shouldn't be starting yet another fanfic. I have a dozen unfinished WIPs that I should be updating. But... My muses demanded this. And I seem to have the attention span of a ten year old when it comes to stories. So, here we are. But I promise, after this I only have one or two more new stories I'm going to do, and then I'll go back and update. I promise! Nature of the Beast WILL be updated soon!  
> I never watched Surrender Benson, but hopefully my beta will be able to keep me from making any mistakes. Speaking of, thanks to GrassySVU67 for betaing!  
> Please review! I hope you enjoy the story.

She wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't her case- but when had that stopped her before?

True, usually she only nosed around other Special Victims cases, but this was different. She needed to see this for herself.

Flashing her badge to a uniformed officer standing guard, Olivia ducked under the crime scene tape and walked into the alley.

Since this was so close to home, she allowed herself to feel the emotion fully, but it was still unnerving; it was like she was on her first case all over again.

On one side of the alley was a print shop, on the other a shoe store. The walls were made of brick and the ground was clean as far as alleys in New York went, but still filthy. Half a dozen CSU techs were working quickly to preserve the scene, hurriedly searching for bullets and snapping pictures, racing against the cloudy sky.

An M.E. and his intern were loading the less fortunate of the two victims inside a van, confirming details with each other. The intern started to eagerly ask questions about the autopsy they would soon be performing, only to fall silent as the M.E. started talking to a pair of detectives.

Olivia avoided looking at the ground for as long as she could, but finally she had to face it. Exhaling slowly, she took in the two pools of blood that hadn't yet dried. One pool turned into a trail leading to the other, filling her head with things she didn't want to imagine.

She could only distract herself by watching CSU at work for a few seconds before, unable to stop herself, she began to visualize what had happened not too long ago. The blood trail told her that one victim had dragged himself over to the other before collapsing. She had a good idea who had dragged himself, and it hurt to think about. She wondered what the two might have said or done, if they had tried to reassure each other or figure out a plan to survive. Or maybe they'd both been too weak by that point, and one had died and the other had lost consciousness before anything could be said.

She couldn't help but think how afraid they must have been.

With that, it finally became too much to bear, and she pulled herself away from her dark thoughts. Instead, she glanced at the van, which was just leaving, and felt a stab of sorrow… and guilt.

The guilt came because she knew, didn't even bother pretending otherwise; it wasn't the dead man's tragic situation that was causing her distress. What she truly cared about was how his death was going to affect her best friend.

The truth of the matter was, Olivia simply hadn't known Eddie Garcia. She'd only known him from the Muñoz case, and while she was upset like she would be at any innocent person getting murdered, it just wasn't as important to her as the pain it was going to bring Rafael.

Not to mention the pain it already _had_ brought him. The puddle of blood told her everything she needed to know.

She leaned against a wall and took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes. The memory of William Lewis was trying to pull her away from the present, but she fought him off. Flashbacks always left her off-balance for hours, and she couldn't afford that right now. She couldn't let Lewis bring her back again.

She grounded herself, focusing on the feeling of the brick against her palm and the cold air that was in sharp contrast to the warm May day when she had been taken. Icy raindrops began to fall, peppering her face. She listened to the groans of frustration from the CSUs and the orders they barked at each other.

Opening her eyes, Olivia took in the scene again one more time before deciding she had taken long enough. She had somewhere far more important to be.

Her gaze stayed on the ground as she headed back to her car. She ducked back under the crime scene tape, nodding at the uniformed officer in thanks, and then entered her car.

As she drove towards Mount Sinai Hospital, she thought about Rafael. She wondered how well, or not, he would cope with this. Rafael was one of the strongest men she knew, but no one could stay the same after what had just happened to him.

Although she knew things had gone about as badly as they could, she still didn't have all the pieces. Only one hour ago, Captain Cragen had called her into his office and told her to sit down, voice almost as grim as it had been on the day Olivia's mother had died.

"I know you're close to Barba," he had begun. "So I thought I'd tell you first."

Olivia's heart was already thundering, but she knew one thing. "He's not dead. You'd tell us all together."

"No, he's alive," he'd said, nodding. "But he was attacked. Shot in the gut. He's in surgery now; they think he'll make it, but they don't know what kind of complications he might have… And…"

"And?" Olivia had echoed, voice dropping to a whisper.

"His friend- Eddie Garcia. He was with Barba and declared dead on the scene. Single shot to the head." He'd frowned at Olivia's sharp intake of breath, but couldn't seem to think of anything reassuring to say. "We don't have any suspects. We hope Barba can fill in the pieces when he wakes up.

"One more thing," Cragen had said. "He asked the EMTs to call you."

That made sense, Olivia thought; she'd been out chasing a lead until a few minutes earlier, so Cragen probably would have taken the call on her behalf. Though she still didn't know why Barba would have asked for her instead of a family member. "That's how you knew so fast."

"Yes." He nodded.

"I need-"

"I've already given you the rest of today and tomorrow off. Don't hesitate to take more time if you need it," he'd interrupted.

Olivia had smiled, thanked him, and stood to leave. Then she paused and asked, "Where was he attacked?"

Cragen, perhaps understanding her need to see it, had told her the address without hesitation.

As Olivia turned and started to walk away, Cragen had called after her, "Let us know if we can do anything to help."

"I will," she'd promised as she closed the door. She'd refused to answer her team's questions, not wanting to be slowed down, and had instead inclined her head towards Cragen's office. They hadn't been happy at her lack of explanation, but she didn't care much; she knew they would understand soon enough.

Now, as she drove in the drizzle that was steadily turning into a downpour, Olivia reflected on the crime scene. She didn't like what she had seen there. Not just because it had shown her more details of Rafael's attack and Eddie's murder than she wanted to know, but because of what it showed about the case itself.

No leads. Not much in the way of evidence, especially with the rain destroying so much of what was available. She wasn't confident they would even find the killer, never mind getting a conviction.

But once she arrived at the hospital parking lot, she told herself that the case was no longer her concern. Not right now. Now, her concern was Rafael. Although the doctors were confident he would survive, he would still have to fight for it. And even after he accomplished that, there was a long and painful road stretching out in front of him. Olivia needed to be there for him. She could worry about finding the perp later.

Striding inside the emergency room, Olivia wove her way to the front desk. "I'm here for Rafael Barba. He was brought in an hour, hour and a half ago."

The nurse navigated through some computer screens, then said, "He's in surgery, but it shouldn't take more than another hour if no complications arise. I'll have someone come get you when he can have visitors."

"Thank you," Olivia said. She found one of the waiting room's uncomfortable, hard plastic chairs and sat down, pulling out her phone to pass the time.

15 minutes, half an hour, an hour, two hours. Time crept on at a crawl, and Olivia's worry rose with every minute. The surgery should have been done an hour ago; surely he should have been moved out of the recovery room by now?

For perhaps the umpteenth time, Olivia anxiously ran one hand through her hair. She was starting to think the worst. Stomach wounds were notoriously tricky; maybe Rafael was hurt much worse than she'd thought. Rafael alive but traumatized, she could handle, but if something went wrong…

Unable to take the waiting, she returned to the main desk and asked the nurse, "Have you heard anything?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I'll ask around."

"Thanks," Olivia said. Still as worried as ever, she headed back to her seat.

After another ten minutes, the nurse called her over again. "He just got out of surgery, and is being moved to the recovery room."

"What went wrong?" Olivia asked. If Rafael was out of surgery now, it couldn't have gone too badly, but there still had to be something wrong if it had taken this long.

"He was bleeding more than anticipated. It took longer to patch him up," she explained gently. "But he should be fine now."

Another nurse- a man this time- came up to the desk, asking, "Are you Olivia Benson?"

"Yes," Olivia replied.

"Mr. Barba is awake, and he's been asking for you. You can see him once we move him to his room," he said.

"How is he?" Olivia asked quietly.

"He should heal fine if all goes well, but we have a few concerns," the nurse began. "Fortunately, the bullet didn't perforate his bowel, but we're still worried about infection, so we're going to keep him on some strong IV antibiotics. He's probably going to be here for at least a month, more if he suffers any complications."

Olivia nodded, taking it all in. Then she asked, "But you think he'll recover? How likely is it that he'll get an infection?"

"His doctor thinks he should make a full or nearly-full recovery. But if he does get an infection, which is common with stomach wounds, it could impede his recovery quite a bit," the nurse said.

Olivia nodded again.

"I have to get going, but I'll be back later to show you his room," the nurse said.

"Thanks," Olivia said as the man started to walk away.

She exhaled, feeling relief flood her veins. Rafael would survive. He would be in agony, but alive.

Now Olivia began to brace herself, knowing that the anguish awaiting Rafael would come close to tearing him apart. She dreaded seeing it, but she was determined to be there, determined not to let him go through this alone.

He had been there for her in her time of need; now it was time for her to return the favor.

* * *

Olivia stood over Rafael's bed, frowning deeply. The anesthesia was still wearing off, so Rafael had fallen asleep again after asking for her.

She deliberated over whether to rouse him. He had wanted to see her, so surely knowing she was here would put him at ease. But he was sleeping so peacefully, and she didn't want to disturb him.

Finally she decided to wake him up, reasoning that with all the morphine in his system, he should be able to fall asleep again quickly.

Clearing her throat, Olivia gently shook Rafael's shoulder. "Rafael?"

It was only as she said his first name aloud that she realized how rarely she used it. He was always 'Counselor' or 'Barba'. She wondered if he would even recognize her saying his name.

Still, it didn't feel right to call him by his last name when he was in a hospital bed. It felt far too detached, especially since she was trying to comfort him. So she called his name again, still jogging his shoulder. "Rafael, wake up. Just for a minute."

No response. Olivia wasn't sure whether he was always this deep a sleeper, or if the drugs were to blame, but she didn't want to give up yet. She continued shaking his shoulder, as firm as she could without hurting him.

Finally, she saw some slight movements, uncoordinated and feeble. He was trying to wake up, but struggling, impeded by the morphine and residual anesthetic.

"Can you wake up?" Olivia asked him softy.

* * *

Everything felt… heavy.

He tried to move, tried to just open his eyes, but nothing _worked_. He felt sluggish.

And confused, oh-so confused. His head seemed to be filled with fog, making it impossible to think, and impossible to gain any more focus than the strange semiconscious state he was in.

He heard his name being called, and he finally managed to move, reaching his hand out in the direction of the noise.

He strained to remember what had happened, but drew a blank, and he finally decided to work backwards. He was here, in what was obviously a hospital. A vague pain in his abdomen told him he had had an injury there. Fumbling, he set a hand on the spot, and a memory rushed back; lying on a similar bed, desperately weak, heart pounding in fear…

Bright light, and then waves of agony that made black spots dance in front of his eyes…

" _Just hold on, you'll be okay."_

" _N-no, I'm…" A throb, and then realization and terror as another sensation appeared. "I-I'm gonna pass out, I-"_

" _We're getting you some blood, okay? The O.R. will be ready any minute. Just hang in there."_

_He shook his head, silently yelling the word 'no' over and over again. This had to be a nightmare, couldn't be anything else if Eddie was dead and he was about to join him. This nightmare needed to stop, he needed someone, needed-_

"OLIVIA!"

In his mind he was screaming, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper.

"Rafael! Are you okay?!"

It sounded like Olivia, and oh, he wanted to reach out, but he couldn't talk, couldn't move- the memories were flooding him and he couldn't stop them-

" _Eddie, no no no, you can't- Eddie please, wake up, please wake up, GOD_ _ **DAMN IT,**_ _EDDIE! DON'T YOU DARE DO THIS!" He was screaming so loud that it burned his throat, and each word made his head swim. He'd collapsed at Eddie's side, unable to move any further, and had tried to rouse him. Now he was desperate, because Eddie couldn't be dead, not this quick- they'd been talking together not ten minutes ago, and just seconds earlier Eddie had been shouting at their attacker for daring to hurt his hermano. He knew what that bullet hole in Eddie's forehead meant, but he couldn't comprehend it, he just couldn't- not Eddie, anyone but Eddie-_

A choked sob escaped him. "Eddie!"

It _hurt_ , felt like his insides were being scraped with a knife. He wept uncontrollably, unsure what was worse; the memories or the bitter ache from his bullet wound. It was too much, it was too raw.

He didn't think he had ever wanted anything more than he wanted Eddie to be beside him, calling his name, promising him he wasn't going anywhere.

"Eddie, Eddie…" he moaned.

"Rafael! Breathe!"

Olivia's voice reached him, but it was distant, like her voice was the memory and the scene of Eddie's death was his reality.

He wanted to beg her to tell him it was a nightmare, that Eddie was fine and on his way there, or at least grievously injured but still _alive_. But the only noise he managed was another sob.

 _Lying on the ground, all but writing in pain, Rafael found himself crying for Eddie. He didn't know what was going on or why, didn't know anything except that he was in agony,_ _and he needed Eddie to fix it. Eddie always did; he was always Rafael's protector, always the one to right what was wrong._

" _Rafi, just hold on!" Eddie shouted. Rafael heard struggling; it sounded like punches being thrown. "You son of a bitch, you think you can just-"_

_He opened his eyes just before he heard the sound of a gunshot. He saw blood erupt from Eddie's head and then clenched his eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to make it go away even as he heard Eddie's body hitting the floor._

" _Eddie?" he called, voice weak._

_Silence was his only answer. The sound of their attacker's footsteps gradually became more distant, then faded entirely._

_After another minute of terrifying silence, he forced himself to open his eyes, battling the dread that was begging him to just make the world vanish. Eddie was lying limp on the ground, blood steadily dripping from the hole in his forehead._

_He desperately called Eddie's name twice more, but still received no response. Drawing on some inner strength he didn't know existed, he forced himself to his knees and dragged himself over to his best friend, using one arm to press into his stomach wound._

" _Eddie, mi hermano…" he whispered. The excruciating pain increased every time he so much as breathed, and finally, he simply collapsed, groaning. "E-Eddie, we h-have to c-c-call f-for h-h-help…" He struggled, taking in some deep breaths. "Eddie, come on, wake up… Y-you have to stay awake! Wake up! Eddie, come on! N-not now, p-please, not now!…"_

He was lying on his side and shaking hard, making the bed rattle. Every sob, every gasp made the pain double, but he couldn't stop.

Olivia was talking to him, ordering him to breathe, telling him to calm down because the last thing he needed was to make himself sick. He was trying to stop, but he just _couldn't_.

"Rafael… I know it hurts, but you're safe. Just try to rest," Olivia whispered.

"I don't care if I'm safe. I just want Eddie," he wanted to tell her. But no words came.

He heard movement beside them and looked up to see a nurse. She added something to his IV line, and soon he started to feel heavy again, the thick fog filling his head.

The tears slowly stopped, and his breathing returned to normal. He lay shivering on the bed, burrowing under the extra blankets the nurse set over him.

Olivia set one hand on his forehead, gently brushing the hair out of his face and quietly asking him something he couldn't register. He was unable to form any coherent thoughts; he just clenched his eyes shut as the image of a bullet piercing his best friend's skull played over and over again in an endless loop. He couldn't make it stop no matter how much he tried to focus on Olivia.

To him, it seemed to last an eternity. He watched Eddie die countless times while Olivia begged him to say something, anything. He tried to hold on to her voice, because it was the only thing anchoring him to reality and without it, he was sure, he'd fall into the dark and be lost.

The fog got thicker, making everything slow. The scene of Eddie's death faded, but so did Olivia's voice. He didn't want to lose it, so he let out a soft sound of protest that even he could barely hear. Olivia's touch wasn't enough- he needed her voice too.

Before he could do anything else, the drugs overpowered him, and he fell back into unconsciousness, finally granted a respite from the night's horrors.

* * *

Every obscenity in the English language was running through Olivia's head as she watched Rafael: his fear, his pain, the crying. She'd known it was going to be bad, but not like _this_.

"Shit, Rafael, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, setting a hand on his forehead. His eyes were closed and he was breathing hard, but he seemed to be slowly calming down as the drugs took effect.

His failure to respond worried her, so she begged, "Rafael, please, say something. Just let me know you're okay", even though he wasn't. He was the furthest possible thing from okay.

He still didn't respond, so with a sigh, she fell silent and just stroked his forehead. Rafael let out a soft sound, but before she could ask what was wrong, he fell asleep again.

Olivia was grateful, but more than that, she was remorseful. She should never have woken him up. He had been comfortable, and now she'd caused him so much pain; the exact opposite of what she'd been trying to do.

She ran her pointer finger over the dried tear tracks on his face. She didn't think there was any sight she hated more than Rafael crying. It had taken only seconds of Rafael sobbing before she knew she would do anything to avoid seeing it again.

Soft snores filled the room, and Rafael's chest rose and fell steadily. He was still on his side, so Olivia gently pushed him to his back, not wanting to add a sore shoulder to his list of complaints. But when she remembered the exit wound, she realized he might have been more comfortable before she moved him. Then again, he was sleeping deeply, so she doubted it mattered.

Olivia's thoughts wandered, and she began thinking about the road stretching out in front of Rafael. His recovery would have three parts; convalescing from his physical wounds, of course, and the psychological injuries. Getting past the grief, and then the sheer trauma of what had happened to him. Both would be able to aggravate each other, setting him back at any time. The physical injuries would by far be the easiest thing to recover from, and that spoke to the impossible cruelty of the attack. It couldn't be much worse if the _easy_ part was recovering from a shot to the gut.

Gritting her teeth, Olivia vowed to herself that no matter what it took, after all they'd been through together, she wouldn't let Rafael fall. She would do everything she could to help him recover from this.


End file.
